Chapter Text
Chapter 1
The sun glared through the windscreen and caused the blond man to shield his eyes with his hand.
“Someone turn down the sun.” He muttered before knocking the aviator sunglasses perched on his head back on his nose.
The visor was useless at his height, shielding more of his forehead than anything so he pushed it back up and continued on, squinting at the road ahead. It was deserted because it was early morning and he was rushing to his new house before the movers arrived. He had gotten the cheapest of the cheap and he didn’t trust them with his belongings.
He reached for his cup of coffee, which was on the verge of being cold and wrinkled his nose as he dumped the rest of it in his mouth before reaching for the jolly rancher in the passenger seat to get rid of the taste.
“Almost there, buddy.” He said, lovingly petting the dash of his yellow sixty-five Volkswagen beetle. “Then you can rest, you hunk of junk.”
He was near his destination when he decided to stop by the local gas station - all he had was sweets and he might appreciate something not sweet for dinner. He filled his tank, grabbed a few instant noodle cups and hopped back into his car.
He pulled out and made his way down the lonely stretch of road, slowing as he pulled on to a winding dirt road.He hoped his baby would make it down the winding, bumpy road. It was about ten minutes before he pulled up to his new home. He turned off the engine and climbed out of the low vehicle, gently tapping the roof with a sighed, “Good job, darling.”
He let his eyes take in his new house once again. It was a simple house built in the early nineteen-hundreds, two stories with an attic and wrap around porch. It’s exterior was a pale flaking yellow that needed to be retouched badly. The brown shutters had seen better days and some were hanging dangerously - he’d have to fix those. The porch had been a matching brown at one time but now was nearly rotted through in places. He carefully made his way up the steps, making sure not to go near any of the holes in it. He was so happy his brother, a carpenter, had promised to help him fix it up because it was beautiful, though in disrepair.
He slid the key into the lock in the heavy door and unlocked it, pushing it open and was met with a wall of musty air. No one had lived in the house in years and no matter how much the real estate agent had tried to febreeze it to death, it didn’t cover the scent of neglect. He closed the door behind himself and took it in. He could still feel some residual warmth from the previous family - an ability he preferred not to talk about.
He looked down at original hardwood floors that desperately needed to be cleaned and looked around the house. The walls were a dirty white with a floral banner along the molding on the ceiling; to the right were stairs that went to the second floor, to the left, a hallway running the length of the house. The wooden stairs, once polished but now covered in dust were underwhelming. He walked down the hall and peeked into the room on his left to see a large room with space on the right partitioned off, making a smaller room. Living room and his office he decided there and then. He walked a few steps to the kitchen on the right, thankful beyond belief that the appliances came with the house - even though they were old they worked. He set his food on the counter and opened the window above the sink, smiling as cedar scented air drifted in.He got to work opening windows on this floor before bounding up stairs to take care of the windows up there. He’d just opened one facing the front of the house when he saw the moving truck rumbling up to the house. He sighed in relief and hurried downstairs, making sure everything was prepared for the movers and that they knew where not to step on the porch
They wouldn’t let him help, much to his chagrin, but he kept quiet for once; not wanting to piss off the people holding his stuff. He may have been a prankster, but he knew when not to piss people off and when they were holding his possessions was one of those times. He directed the movers from his perch on the porch railing, hoping to every god imaginable it wouldn’t give out on him - the last thing he needed was a broken neck.
“This is the last of it, Laufeyson.”
“Just Gabriel jeez, and thanks.”
He pulled the lollipop stick from his mouth, flicking it to the ground as he hopped off the railing, reaching for his wallet as the movers finished, tipping them and heading in to start unpacking.
His first order of business was hooking up his microwave so he could eat some noodles- it was way past lunch time now and he was famished. He turned on the tap and immediately recoiled as it spluttered before spewing out brown water.
“I really should have let the water run, gross.” He was insanely happy that he hadn’t put his cup under the water just yet.
--
“Oh god, I did not sign up for this much exercise.” Gabriel hissed, stretching and popping his back after dropping a box of toiletries in the giant upstairs bathroom. He was glad that he wouldn’t have to go out to the hallway to get to it; it had bedroom access as well as hallway.
He pulled out his cellphone to check the time, deflating as he saw it was long past ten in the evening. He flopped heavily onto the bed as he looked at the bars, pouting to see that there was no service.
“Wait, she said there was service here! What a load of shit.” Gabriel groused, lifting his hand up and laughing when it suddenly showed three bars. “Please work.” He prayed, scrambling to the window to call his brother.
“Novak.”
“Baby bro! How’s it hanging?”
“How is what hanging?”
Gabriel stifled a laugh, picturing his literal minded brother’s confused expression as he looked down at his nails. “What’re you doing, kiddo? I just settled in enough for today, I’ll continue tomorrow obviously.”
“I’m working in the office, covering for your missing ass in a meeting.”
Gabriel sighed, “Thanks for that, Cassie. I’m sure I can get the spark out here to write my next novel.”
“I’m amazed you can stay that long away from human contact and attention.”
Gabriel laughed, shaking his head and fighting the urge to walk over to the bed, knowing he’d lose the connection if he did so.
“Is there a reason you called me, Gabriel?”
“Thought you’d like to know that your favourite brother moved in and didn’t get lynched by the movers.”
“You’re my only brother Gabriel.” Castiel muttered, the shuffling of papers coming across the phone line, along with the squeak of Cas’ chair. “Are we done? I’d like to finally go home.”
“All right, be careful bro; never know when someone’s in the backseat.”
“I can take care of myself, Gabriel. Good night.”
Gabriel pouted at his phone before tossing it next to his mattress, which was laying on the floor. No way in hell was he putting together the frame tonight.
He looked out the window as he reached for his pants and shrugged - no one was going to see him out here, what did it matter if he slept in the buff and changed in front of the window.
He undressed, dumping his clothes on the floor and collapsed on his bed, he was beyond tired by this point. It only took a little tossing and turning before he was out like a light.
--
The room was illuminated by moonlight when he walked in. He stayed at the foot of the bed for a moment before gradually making his way towards the headboard.
“What a beautiful man,” he whispered into the still air, reaching a hand out to gently lay on the slack cheek of the blond man passed out in the bed. He slid his hand slowly up the warm face and through the sleek blond locks when the man groaned.
As if burned, he quickly pulled his hand back and stared down owlishly as the nude man rolled onto his back and slowly opened his eyes. He stayed perfectly still, hoping to go unnoticed, but he could tell the amber eyes were focused straight on his face and in his panic he dropped his form and fled the room as the man fell back into a deep slumber.
--
The light stabbed him in the eyes as he turned his head while rolling over.
“God dammit. Blinds are needed.” He grumbled, burying his face into his pillow to escape the sun.
A deep breath left him as he slowly moved to sit up, groaning as he stretched and popped his shoulders and back. His mind went back to his dream from last night. He’d been sleeping and woke to see a delectable man with long, dark hair standing over him, watching him and maybe touching him. It felt so real, but it didn’t fit into his dream of swimming with hot men and women in a pool full of skittles. Well, he could’ve fit in, but the party hadn’t been in his bedroom.
Shaking his head he hopped out of bed, snatching up his pj pants as he made his way into the large bathroom attached to his room and hallway - not like he’d have guests anyway. He opened the tap and jumped away when the water stuttered as it pushed through the air in the pipes and took that minute of gurgling and explosions to relieve his bladder. He should’ve turned on all the taps yesterday, but he had simply forgotten. After the pressure stabilized and the gross brown color went away, he turned on the shower and stepped under the lukewarm water. He washed quickly, grateful he’d thought to put his body wash and shampoo in place last night. He briefly thought about how to get the water actually hot enough to melt but discarded it, not awake enough yet to process something that complex.
He finished up and stepped out of the bath, groaning as he realised he never brought the towels in. He kicked at a box in frustration, hurting his foot much to his displeasure. He quickly made his way through the cold house, shuffling into his room and throwing on jeans, a button down and light jacket over still damp skin.
He pulled a chocolate bar out of his messenger bag as well as a can of pepsi before settling himself down on his sofa. “Ah, breakfast of the kings! I need to go grocery shopping.” Gabriel said to no one as he opened his can and unwrapped his chocolate.
He ate in silence, eyes sliding over to his TV on the ground and his entertainment center shoved off to the side. He wasn’t looking forward to moving that by his lonesome, nor the cleaning but that’s what his day called for. Groceries, cleaning, and moving shit. He didn’t sign up for this. He shot the crumpled chocolate wrapper at the wall and stood up, wiping his hands on his pants as he got to work.
--
His face was red with exertion as he carried a particularly heavy box full of books into the guest room, dropping it in the closet. He felt the floor shake under him as it landed in it’s designated spot seconds before something hit him on the head. Cursing, he spun around to see a metal box sliding across the floor, coming to a stop by his writing desk. He rubbed his head as he strode to it, crouching down and picking up the fragile-looking metal box. He popped the catch on the box and slowly opened it, peering inside to see bits of paper. He reached in carefully and pulled the contents out, thinking to himself that he felt like he was looking at things he shouldn’t.
He pulled out an old, tattered journal and put it aside before he unraveled a few letters that seemed to have been written by a woman - Jess according to the letter - to a Sam. He didn’t read them, his nosy self apparently pushed down as he flipped through them until he found a letter at the bottom that was unaddressed and unopened. He turned it over and started at the flaky brown smear that followed the line of the envelope and, before he could realise he was doing it, he’d opened the letter and pulled out the crumpled paper. As he unfolded the letter, he jumped as a something fell out and hit the floor, skidding under his desk this time. He looked back down at the letter to see it was a mess, brown marks and smears covered the paper the simply read, “I’m so sorry Jess.”
“Wait, is this a-” He reached under his desk and felt his fingers hit something thin and pulled out an old razor blade.
“Oh god, it is a suicide note.” Gabriel whispered, quickly stuffing the blade and letter back in the envelope. It was when he was gathering the letters to shove back in the box and forget he ever saw it that he noticed a polaroid at the bottom of the box. He froze, recognizing the smiling face as the man who had stood by his bedside the night before.
“It wasn’t a dream.” He murmured, pulling the polaroid free from the box and putting the letters back in. An abrupt feeling of sadness came over him as his gaze lingered on the hauntingly beautiful man as he stood; gathering the journal, gently placing it and the picture on his desk. He continued to look at the picture before shaking his head and picking up the box, his mood lifting as suddenly as it had dropped. He walked back to the closet, box in hand and spotted the high shelf he’d have never noticed. He grabbed the shelf and lifted himself best to his ability and quickly shoved the box back on it, dropping to the floor. He took one last look at the photo and journal before going about his work, cleaning the house.